


Some Other Beginning's End

by missbecky



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Avengers Prime, Civil War (Marvel), Discussion of Assisted Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 01:27:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3231104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony feels sick to his stomach. It can't be true, it can't be. Because Steve is fine. He looks perfectly fine. He isn't sick or poisoned. He has the super soldier serum and he is Captain America and he can't die again, not when he's just come back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Other Beginning's End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kiyaar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiyaar/gifts).



> Birthday fic for [Kiyaar](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiyaar/pseuds/Kiyaar), who wanted "the angstiest thing you've ever written" and then gave me a few prompts. Naturally I had to pick the worst one on the list. Please note the archive warnings. This is not a happy story.
> 
> The title comes from "Closing Time" by Semisonic.

**_Now_ **

 

They've been back at the Tower for three days now, because that's just how Steve Rogers is. Stubborn as ever, refusing to do the all-American thing and die alone in a ridiculously overpriced hospital room.

The other Avengers have been in to say their good-byes while they still can. Last to come were Sam, Sharon, and Bucky Barnes. None of them tried to kill Tony, which means none of them knows the truth – that Tony is responsible for Steve's death.

Again.

"Tony." Steve's voice is thin; just in the past hour, he's started having trouble breathing. Even if he had agreed to go to the hospital, it really wouldn't matter all that much. He won't make it until nightfall at this rate.

"You should go," Steve says.

Tony stands there by the foot of the bed, paralyzed with grief and guilt. This is all his fault, and he knows it. Steve knows it, too. But for some reason Steve doesn't seem to blame him, which is maybe the worst thing of all.

"Tony," Steve says again. Fever glitters in his eyes, but there is no doubt that he is still perfectly lucid and aware of what is happening to him.

Tony doesn't say anything. Until a few minutes ago, he was hard at work in the lab, trying to find a way to save Steve. He doesn't know why Steve would ask him to come here, only to immediately order him away again, and he doesn't care. Part of him _wants_ to go, to hurry out the door and not look back. Because he doesn't want to watch this, oh God he doesn't want to bear witness as Steve dies in front of him. 

But he has to. This is his punishment and his penance. 

This is exactly what he deserves.

"Tony." Now Steve looks irritated, cross at having to deal with Tony Stark and his shit even on his deathbed. At the thought of adding one more burden to Steve's weakening shoulders, guilt twists deep within Tony's chest behind the metal weight of the RT.

"I'm staying," he says, and he can't believe how normal he sounds. Like he's not drowning in a sea of guilt and self-loathing, this ocean that he made for himself, with the dark undertow he can never escape.

He sits on the edge of the bed and looks down at Steve. "I won't let you go through this alone."

And Steve, oh God, Steve looks back at him, so _grateful_ , like Tony isn't the one who did this to him. For the thousandth time Tony wishes desperately that they could trade places, that he was the one in bed, sick and dying, and Steve was the one sitting here with no memory of the past year and a shiny new light in his chest.

But this is reality. This is how it is. He is here and Steve is there, and nothing can change that.

No matter what he does, Steve is going to die.

********

**_Then_ **

 

So far today Tony's battled Norman Osborn and his Dark Avengers, had a brief but painful reunion with the real Avengers, witnessed the destruction of Asgard on Earth, been sucked into a twisted version of the Nine Realms, and been captured and tortured by goblins and an honest-to-goodness dragon.

He's had better days.

But it's worth it, all so worth it, to be with Steve again.

They ride through strange woods in search of Thor, Tony in the old armor he barely remembers how to use, his arms loosely wrapped around Steve. Physically he's a mess, still recovering from the surgery that implanted the RT, his body trying to adjust to the sudden mass of metal taking up space in his chest. He needs more time to heal, to relearn how to move and even just _breathe_ , but time is a luxury for someone in his position, and one he's rarely granted.

Not that he would have missed the battle against Osborn. He's glad he was there, even more glad that he got to fight alongside Steve and the Avengers again. He knows things will never be the same between them, mostly because of things he doesn't remember anymore – and probably doesn't want to. But for a little while at least he got to feel like he was part of them again, like it was the old days.

Except the old days never involved trips through rainbow portals to strange versions of Asgard, or wherever this is. And it figures that while Steve was off meeting nice elf ladies and finding himself a sword and shield, Tony was the one who got to be captured by goblins, stripped naked and tied down, a burning brand pressed to his side while a dragon repeatedly slammed his head into a stone slab.

Still, he'd rather it happened this way than the other way around. Despite the anger and the hurt between them, he would suffer it all instead of Steve.

And he's hoping that maybe, just maybe, they will find time to sit down and have a talk. Just the two of them, no shouting, no arguing, no Avengers gathered around watching anxiously.

Maybe he and Steve can be friends again.

But first they have to find Thor. And figure out where and when they are and how to get back home again.

Steve's back is perfectly straight as they ride on. Tony has no idea how they will find Thor. Their horse seems strong enough, but carrying the weight of two grown men plus the armor will tire it quickly. He doesn't know what they'll do if they ride all day and end up with nothing to show for it. He certainly isn't going to give up on Thor, but there are serious practicalities to consider, too. They have no food and no water. They don't know where they are or what lies ahead. Steve seems quite healthy for someone just recently returned from the dead, but Tony has grave doubts about his own stamina, weakened as he is from the surgery that put the RT in his chest.

He's about to suggest that they stop and rest the horse when Steve's head comes up. Tony looks over his shoulder to see what Steve is staring at.

Up ahead there is a village.

"Maybe they know where Thor is," he says.

"Maybe," Steve says. He sounds a bit wary, and Tony reminds himself to ask what happened in the village where he acquired his new weaponry.

They ride on, and Tony feels misgivings of his own start to settle in. As they draw nearer, it becomes obvious that the village is abandoned. Half of it seems to have burned down at some point in the past, although it's impossible to say when exactly that happened.

Steve reins the horse in just outside the village limits. Flanking the road are two wooden signs, each with only one word painted there, the same on each sign. The runes are a mystery to Tony's eyes, but he doesn't like the look of them. They are similar to Asgardian script, but they lack the beauty of Thor's written language. This word, whatever it is, looks dangerous.

"Maybe we should go around," Steve says, a bit uncertainly.

They probably should, but there might also be some evidence of Thor in there. The fire, for instance. Who's to say it wasn't lightning that caused it?

"We can't afford not to look," Tony says. "What if Thor's in there? What if he's hurt?"

Steve takes a deep breath, his chest swelling beneath Tony's arm. "All right," he says.

Tony dismounts first, with Steve right behind him. He watches as Steve arms himself with the shield. It's an achingly familiar sight, even if the shield itself isn't the usual red, white, and blue. And even though he didn't intend to speak yet, he just can't help himself.

"Steve. Wait."

Steve turns to look at him, a question in his eyes. He's focused on the task at hand, intent on finding Thor and getting home again. It isn't fair and it isn't right to blindside him with this now, but maybe that means it's the best time for it.

"Can we talk first?"

Instantly Steve's expression becomes guarded. His blue eyes harden. "This isn't the time or the place, Tony."

"I think it is," Tony says stubbornly. "We don't have an audience this time."

"You didn't let that stop you before," Steve says.

"Did you think I wouldn't defend myself?" he snaps. He's used to being backed into a corner in front of the whole world, thanks to his celebrity status, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't prefer to have a conversation like this in private.

"You mean—" Steve starts to say.

"Wait," Tony says. He holds up both hands in a gesture of peace. "I don't want us to argue again, Steve."

Steve sucks in a deep breath and holds it for a long moment. Then he slowly exhales, and his shoulders visibly relax. "Neither do I," he says.

They just stand there then, neither of them willing to be the first one to speak and start the whole miserable ball rolling again. He doesn't know what Steve is thinking, but Tony is remembering the horrible wrench he felt in his chest when he first looked at that archived headline announcing that Captain America was dead.

He knows he can't ever deal with that again.

Whatever happened between them, whatever bridges they burned during the Civil War, he wants to rebuild them. He wants to be friends with Steve again. He wants to trust Steve again.

He wants to be able to love Steve again.

Not that he ever _stopped_ loving Steve. Even with no memory of the past year, he knows that didn't happen. No, he loves Steve as much as he ever did. What he wants, what he aches for, is the knowledge that it's safe to do so, that he doesn't have to think of Steve as the enemy anymore.

"I just…" He stops, unsure what to say.

Steve stares back at him, expectant, impatient. At any moment now Steve will say that they need to get going, that Tony has derailed the search for Thor for the sake of his own hubris and wounded pride, simply because he wanted to force a confrontation between them. Because of course Tony Stark always gets what Tony Stark wants, because that's how it always works with him. It's an accusation he's heard before over the years, and he is certain it's an accusation that was leveled at him during the year he's missing, as though he _wanted_ the SHRA and the shitstorm that followed, as though he _wanted_ —

And that's it, he realizes. That's the key.

"I never wanted any of this," Tony says. "What happened between us… I never wanted that."

"You don't even remember what you did," Steve says flatly.

"No, I don't," Tony replies. "But I know that anything I did, I only did because I believed it was the right thing to do."

"Then you know the same is true for me," Steve says. The shield on his arm catches the dull light of this realm, and reflects it back into the day.

Tony nods. "I know. But Steve, you've known me half my adult life. You—"

"No," Steve interrupts. "I _knew_ you. Not anymore."

The words hurt far more than any physical blow ever could. It's suddenly difficult to breathe, in a way that has nothing to do the RT lodged in his chest. "Steve."

"You changed, Tony," Steve says. "After Extremis, you became almost a different person." He shakes his head, bewildered hurt in his eyes. "I felt you slipping away from me, and I didn't know what to do. I wanted everything to stay the same. I wanted to know you had my back, to know you would always be there, like you had always been. But I didn't feel that way anymore."

Tony stares at him, hardly able to breathe for the pain in his chest.

Steve shakes his head. "I've changed too, Tony. Coming back from the dead will do that to a man." He smiles, a rather bitter twist of his mouth. "We can't just…pick up where we left off. I need to know I can trust you again."

"You can," Tony vows. "I came out to help you today, didn't I? Doesn't that count for anything?"

"It does," Steve says. "And I know it wasn't easy for you, that you're still recovering from your surgery. But it's…." He sighs. "I just need some time. I think we both do."

After everything that's happened between them, that's probably the best he can expect right now, and Tony knows it. He tells himself fiercely that he isn't going to complain, that he will accept this uneasy truce and be grateful for it. 

He will do whatever it takes to earn Steve's trust back.

"Okay," he says.

Steve looks at him a moment longer, his expression showing clearly that he's waiting for the catch, because Tony never gives in that easily. But when the silence draws out between them and Tony doesn't say anything else, he must finally decide that this is for real, because he nods. "Okay. Let's go in there and see if we can find out anything about Thor."

They leave the horse beside the road, the reins looped loosely about one of the wooden signs with its single word of warning. Because that's what it must be, Tony thinks. Whatever is written there, it's meant to warn off travelers.

The village is utterly deserted. They walk past the burned-out shells of buildings, and other structures that look eerie in their isolation. 

A little further on, they encounter the first of the dead bodies. Their faces are black and swollen, the bodies contorted with bowed backs. Some of them are clutching at their throats. Whatever killed them, their deaths were not kind.

In the center of the village there is a stone fountain where no water runs. Encircling it, coiled in the dust, is an enormous green vine. The seedpods are each the size of a cow, and the leaves are big enough that a man could use one as a hammock. The vine itself is as thick around as a tall tree. Despite its size, it looks harmless enough – but Tony knows instantly that there is nothing safe about it. Nothing at all.

"What is that?" he asks.

Steve shakes his head. "I don't know."

Whatever it is, the vine is dying. In some places, the leaves are turning an ugly bruise-colored yellow. The seedpods look dull and oddly slumped, like they are rotting from within. They remind Tony of a Venus fly-trap, and also, stupidly enough, of those Mario-eating plants from that old Nintendo game, the ones that rose out of the green pipes. The ones that caused a Game Over.

"Do you think that's what did all this?"

"I don't know," Steve says again. He hefts his shield a little and squares his shoulders, then starts forward.

"That's probably not a good idea," Tony says, even though he knows it's pointless. Steve will do what he wants, the way he always does.

Tony isn't the only one who can be accused of being stubborn.

Steve keeps going, glancing around him for any sign of danger. Tony stays back, keeping an eye on the entire situation. He feels uniquely useless, standing here in a suit of armor that's good for nothing. The repulsors don't work, the computerized internal systems are dead, and the boot jets are just decorations. He needs a weapon, he thinks.

Off in the distance, lightning flares in the sky.

Steve sees it too; his head snaps to the side. "Thor."

Tony smiles at the patch of sky where he saw the lightning. He feels light with relief. So Thor is out there, and still alive.

Movement from the corner of his eye makes him quickly look back. He sees the seedpod nearest Steve bulge as it starts to open. Reflexively he raises a hand, but the repulsors are just as dead as they were a few seconds ago, and there is nothing he can do.

"Steve! Look out!"

The warning comes too late. Steve is in the process of turning towards the pod when it opens and sprays him with a sickly yellow pollen.

Steve recoils, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his face away. He raises the shield, but it doesn't matter because the pod, having dispersed its poison, shrivels up and immediately starts to turn the same rotting yellow as the leaves.

"Steve!" Without thinking, Tony slams his helmet on and runs forward. He grabs Steve's arm and hauls him backward, away from the vine curled around the fountain and the cloud of pollen that still hangs in the air.

Steve comes with him easily enough at first, but before they get too far, he's digging in his heels and pushing at Tony's hand. "Stop," he orders. "I'm fine. Tony, stop."

Reluctantly, Tony lets go. "Are you okay?"

"I said I was fine," Steve says. He sounds annoyed, not injured. He looks the same as he did before, except now he has a light dusting of pollen in his hair and on his shoulders. As Tony watches, anxiously keeping one eye on the other unopened pods, he brushes the yellow dust off. It floats away on the breeze, and Tony wishes for the hundredth time since arriving here that his armor worked, that the HUD was even now giving him data on the pollen and what chemical properties it holds.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

"We need to meet up with Thor," Steve says, dodging the question. He looks in the direction that the lightning came from.

They do, yes. And since their search is obviously over, there is no reason to linger in this place. Still, as they walk toward the road and their horse, Tony spares a look back at that monstrous vine lying around the fountain.

He's glad they know where Thor is now, that they know where they're going. But he'll be even gladder to be gone from this place.

****

They find Thor, and that's when things start to happen very fast. There is another village and the elf woman Mageth. The revelation of where they are. Hela and Amora, Fafnir and the goblins, Thor and his army. The battle to restore the Nine Realms to their rightful state.

And when it's all over, when there is finally time to breathe and focus on the problem of how they are going to get back home, that's when Thor asks them what adventures they had before they found him in those ruins, badly injured and Mjolnir gone.

"Oh, you know," Tony says vaguely. The burn on his side is healing well, thanks to some of Mageth's salve. His chest still aches around the RT, but it's a pain he's growing used to; he's lived with chest pain for so much of his life that he's actually finding it frighteningly easy to adjust to this new hurt. "Goblins and dragons and you pretty much heard it all."

Thor nods and looks questioningly at Steve.

Steve shrugs. "You already met Mageth. I ran into Tony, we rode until we found a deserted village with an enormous dying plant, and then we saw the lightning and we found you. And you know the rest."

Thor's eyes narrow. "What deserted village with a dying plant?"

"You didn't hear that part?" Tony says, even though he knows full well that Thor didn't. There hasn't been much time to talk before. It's only now, with the battle won and the Realms restored, that they've been given this chance.

They're sitting in a tavern in a town not much bigger than the one where Mageth lived. The room is smoky and smells of peat and whatever is cooking in the enormous hearth. It's all quaintly medieval, and Tony could almost enjoy himself, if it weren't for the problem of getting home. Thor swears that Amora will send them back, but first they need to find her.

Thor bangs his palm on the table. "Speak to me of this!"

Tony exchanges a glance with Steve. It's a conspirator's glance, and in spite of the circumstances, he feels a little thrill to know that he and Steve have a secret, something they share, just the two of them.

"There was a village," Steve says. "All the people had left. We found a few bodies, and there was a plant, some kind of Venus fly-trap, I think."

Thor stares at them, his eyes wide. "Did you touch it?" he demands.

"No," Steve says. "No, we didn't."

It isn't often that Thor looks scared, but he looks that way now, and all at once Tony feels his enjoyment of the situation evaporate. He doesn't want to hear what Thor is about to say. He wants to start babbling about how they're going to find the Enchantress and what they're going to do when they get home and how he plans to repeal the SHRA and rebuild the Avengers and restore goodwill among the superhero community.

Anything to prevent Thor from saying the words he will say next.

"That plant," Thor says, "is death. Please tell me you did not touch it or inhale of its poisonous bloom. Please tell me that, my friends!"

Steve says nothing, so it falls to Tony to ask the question. "And if we did?"

"If you did," Thor says gravely, "then I should mourn, because you would already be dead."

Tony feels sick to his stomach. _I should mourn_ , but that can't be true, it can't be. Because Steve is fine. He looks perfectly fine. He isn't sick or poisoned. He has the super soldier serum and he is Captain America and he can't die again, not when he's just come back.

"I think the stories you've heard might have been exaggerated," Steve says. He sounds quite calm. "I inhaled some of the pollen and there's nothing wrong with me."

Thor stares at him for a long moment, then covers his face with his hands.

Terror bursts in Tony's chest. This can't possibly be happening. "He's fine!" he protests, way too loudly. "Look at him! There's nothing wrong with him. And the serum—"

"Will do nothing," Thor says heavily. He drops his hands, and he looks old, so old, every one of his thousands of years of life etched on his face. Seeing that makes the rest of Tony's protests die in his throat, unspoken.

"I am sorry, my friend," Thor says to Steve. "But there is nothing to be done."

"I don't believe that," Steve says. He still sounds calm, like he hasn't just been given a death sentence.

"Not even the most powerful healing medicines of Asgard can combat the poison of the rancor plant," says Thor. "That is why you found the village deserted. There is only one defense, and that is to flee."

Tony stares at them both through wide eyes. He hears the words they say, but none of them make any sense. 

This can't be happening. It can't.

"Maybe you've given up in Asgard," he says hotly, "but on Earth, we don't just give up like that. We're going to fight this. We'll find a way. Steve is going to be fine, just fine. You'll see."

Steve looks over at him, and for the first time Tony sees a crack in his exterior façade of calm. Behind his blue eyes, he is actually quite scared.

"For all our sakes, I hope that is true," Thor says. "But if I were you, I would begin to prepare for the end." He walks off, his shoulders slumped, his cloak hanging limply down his back.

Tony watches him go, then looks back at Steve. "I'll find a cure," he swears. "Whatever it takes. You'll be all right, Steve. You will."

It has to be true. It has to be. Because the alternative is something unthinkable. He's already lost Steve once before, and just because he can't remember it doesn't lessen the pain of it. He can't let it happen again. Not when it's within his power to change it.

Not when it's all his fault.

If only he had just listened to Steve and let them ride around instead of insisting that they go into the village to check it out. If only he had cried out that warning sooner. If only he had gone first to explore the fountain and the vine, using the armor as protection. God, what was he thinking, to have let Steve go first, with only a round piece of metal standing between him and any danger?

This is his fault, and that means he has to fix it.

No one else can.

****

They find Amora the Enchantress the next day, and by then it's clear that Thor's dire prediction is coming true.

Steve is sick.

All the heartfelt words Tony wanted to say to him in private -– _I'm not half as good at anything as I am when I'm doing it next to you_ -– they all fall away into dust. None of them matter. The only thing that matters now is getting Steve home and making him better again.

"Fare thee well," Amora says, with eyes only for Thor.

Thor nods curtly, displeased at requiring her help, but wise enough to know to keep his mouth shut about it.

Beside him, Tony stands in the armor, holding his helmet and feeling even more useless than ever. He's better today, thanks to Mageth's healing salve. He should be thankful for that fact, but instead all he feels is a churlish ingratitude toward life. He should not be healing. His recovery is a mockery of what is happening to Steve.

Standing on Thor's other side, Steve looks paler than usual. From time to time, he coughs. The cough is still dry; his lungs are still working properly for now, aided by the serum. But it's only a matter of time before they begin to fail, along with the rest of his organs. But it's the lack of air that will eventually kill him, suffocating him by slow degrees. And there will be no coming back from this death.

Except he's not going to die. Tony is going to save him.

Amora opens the rainbow-colored portal, and together they step through. The journey back home isn't nearly as unpleasant as the one that brought them here, but a terrible crushing pressure steals Tony's breath, and for an awful moment he thinks he might black out again. Then the pressure relents and the world comes back into focus, and he's standing on solid ground in front of what used to be Asgard.

"Hey!" a voice calls. It sounds like Spider-Man. "They're back!"

Startled, Tony looks around. Just in time to see Steve collapse.

********

**_Now_ **

 

They've been back for three days now, and Tony hasn't slept or eaten since their return. At this point he's surviving solely on coffee and slowly dwindling hope. According to Thor, it's only the super soldier serum keeping Steve alive; most victims of the rancor's poison succumb within hours. Not that this is a kindness. It only means that his death will be more drawn out and agonizing.

Tony has willfully chosen to ignore this, though, and focuses instead on the fact that they have more time. Time enough to formulate a cure, a vaccine, a means of flushing the toxin from Steve's body. Anything at all, just so long as it lets him save Steve.

He hasn't been working alone. He has allies again, people fighting alongside him. Old grudges and hurts are forgotten in the need to save Steve. Hank McCoy, Henry Pym, and Peter Parker have been working just as feverishly to find a cure. T'Challa has offered all that Wakandan science can bring to the table. SHIELD doctors are coordinating efforts with the CDC and the World Health Organization.

But so far none of them have been able to neutralize the toxin in Steve's blood.

He was working in the lab right up until fifteen minutes ago, when Carol came to get him, saying that Steve wanted to see him. Fearing the worst, he left in such a hurry that he's pretty sure he didn't even lock up behind him, but he can hardly be bothered to worry about things like that right now.

While he was down in the lab, he thought the separation was the worst, his mind free to imagine all kinds of awful things happening to Steve and how he might be suffering. But now that Tony is actually here in the same room as Steve, he knows better. The true horror is seeing it for himself.

The serum might be keeping Steve alive for now, but there is no longer any doubt that it is a losing battle. His eyes are dull with pain and fever, his hair has lost most of its luster, and his skin is very pale. He's the same size he always was, yet he looks small against all the pillows and blankets. He's almost gasping, his lungs reverting to their original state, struggling to provide him with enough oxygen.

"Tony, I want you to go," Steve says again, repeating his request from a few minutes ago. And this time, before Tony can protest, he adds, "And come back with the suit."

He gets it then. Why Steve would summon him here only to immediately ask him to leave. This is Steve's last request. Steve doesn't want to die here, like this. He wants to go somewhere peaceful, somewhere private. Tony doesn't know where that might be, but he will take Steve there, and gladly – just as long as it's not too far away, so they can get to him quickly again once they find a cure.

Because they will find one. They will.

"You don't have to bring it all," Steve continues. He squirms against the pillows, scooting upright a little more, trying to make it easier to breathe. "I just need the gauntlet."

In a rush of horrified comprehension, Tony understands then what Steve is _really_ asking. He has to stand up and actually back away a few steps, needing to put some physical distance between them. "Steve. No."

Steve is perfectly calm as he looks up at Tony. "I saw the way those people died. I don't want to die like that."

"You won't," he insists. He believes that's true. He does. He does.

"I still have faith in Peter," says Steve. "And Hank and T'Challa and everyone else working on this cure. They'll find it." He pauses. "But if they don't. If it gets to the end…I need you to do this for me."

"No," Tony says, and it doesn't escape his notice that Steve didn't include _him_ in the list of people he has faith in. "No."

He wants to scream. He knows this doesn't mean that Steve is giving up. Steve is a soldier. This is just another strategy, nothing more. Call it a planned retreat, should one become necessary. 

But Steve is also just a man, and beneath that measured calm, he must be terrified.

And so it's come to this. And even though he would give anything not to, Tony knows perfectly well why Steve asked him to do this. All of Steve's other friends, they would swear up and down that they would do it, that they wouldn't let him suffer like this. But Steve would never lay that burden on his friends' shoulders, not even the most cold-blooded of them. And when it comes right down to it, how many of them would _actually_ do it?

But he can ask Tony.

Because they aren't friends anymore. Because Tony has proven in the past that he is capable of this when no one else is. Because it would seem that Steve really does trust him after all, when it finally counts.

"Please don't make me do this," he whispers.

It doesn't matter what he says, though. He'll do it. He knows he will. Because it's what Steve wants. Because he saw those bodies, too, their blackened faces, their hands locked about their own throats as they tried to wrest one more breath from their tortured lungs. Because for him, it's always been about Steve.

"Tony," Steve says.

He doesn't say, _if you ever loved me, then you will do this_ , because Steve has never been the kind of person to wield weapons like that.

He doesn't say, _it's your fault I'm dying because you made us go in there and then you let me go up there unprotected and you were too slow with your warning_ , because Steve believes in taking responsibility for your own actions, and even now he won't blame Tony.

He just says Tony's name. Once.

And it's all he has to say.

"God damn you, Steve," Tony chokes out, and then he's crying, stumbling forward and sinking onto the bed with his face buried in his hands.

Steve says nothing.

For a little while Tony just sits there crying. He only makes himself stop when he can feel the first sob trying to rise in his throat. Because if he gives in now, he knows he won't stop. And he can't do that. He won't do that.

He wipes at his eyes, sniffs back the tears, and lowers his hands. He's not surprised to find that he already knows what to say. Even when he's lost in despair, part of his brain is always at work, trying to find the next solution, racing ahead at a million miles an hour. He hates that about himself sometimes, that he can't ever just turn himself over to feeling, that he has to always think about the future and his role in it. But this is who he is, and it's far too late now to change. 

"If I do this, how do you expect me to explain it," he says dully. "You just came back from being dead. I'm pretty sure everyone here still hates me, and now you want me to kill you. I won't make it out of this Tower alive."

"I'm sure you'll find a way to convince everyone that you only did what you thought was right," Steve says mildly.

It's such a low blow that Tony is left reeling. But after an initial rush of heated, defensive anger, a terrible cold acceptance settles over him. Steve is right. He can justify anything. The shattered wreckage of his past is proof enough of that.

And just what the fuck is he doing anyway, making this all about him? Steve is _dying_ , and Tony is sitting here whining about his reputation with the Avengers.

"I'm sorry," he says. "That was uncalled for." Self-loathing tightens his voice, and the apology comes out more stiffly than he'd like, as though he doesn't really mean it.

Steve must realize the truth, though, for he takes the words at face value. He nods, and some of the tension between them dissipates.

They sit there in an uncomfortable silence. There is a distinct labored note to Steve's breathing now. More and more often he opens his mouth and inhales deeply – or tries to. Color blooms on his pale cheeks as his fever rises. The serum is still fighting its losing battle against the toxin in his blood, his steadily weakening body the battleground. But it's becoming more and more clear that the end is in sight.

And it's not right, damnit, it's not _right._ This isn't how Steve Rogers is meant to die, suffocating by slow degrees from a toxin from a fucking alien _plant_ , of all things.

He can't stay here. He can't watch this. He needs to be out of this sickroom and back out there with Peter and both Hanks and T'Challa, working to find the miracle Steve deserves.

He needs time to think about what he's just promised Steve, time to rationalize it in his own mind, to tell himself over and over that he won't do it, even when he knows deep down that at the last, he really will.

Slowly he stands up. "I have to go," he says. Deliberately he does not mention the armor. "I have to get back to work." He doesn't look at Steve as he turns around and heads for the door.

Steve doesn't try to stop him. He's reaching for the knob when he stops and turns around. Despite what just happened, he doesn't want Steve to think he's being abandoned. "I'll come back," he says. "I just need to…" He can't finish.

Steve nods. He gasps for breath. His hands clutch at the sheets. He's trying to keep himself from grabbing at his chest, Tony realizes, and his heart clenches painfully behind the RT.

"I know you're doing everything you can," Steve says. "And I want you to know that I appreciate it."

It's too much. Too much. "Stop!" Tony exclaims. "Stop, would you just stop? Why are you thanking me? We both know—"

_\-- that you still hate me_

_\-- that I will always love you_

"—that this is all my fault, so why are you pretending it's not?"

Steve's eyes narrow. He coughs, then glares at Tony. "Because," he says. His voice is hoarse, but his words are icy calm. "I'm the one who's dying. You don't get to decide how I'm supposed to feel about that."

Tony stares at him, torn between helpless despair and disgusted anger at himself.

"You always do what you think is best, regardless of what anyone else wants," Steve says. "At the end of the day, what you want trumps everything else. I told you that once, when we met during the fight over the SHRA. I know you don't remember that, though.

"Well, now it's my turn," Steve says, "to do what I think is best." He coughs again, and this time he can't stop himself from pressing a hand to his chest. Instantly Tony starts toward him – not that there's anything he can do – but Steve waves him off.

The coughing fit seems to last for ages. When it subsides, Steve tips his head back against the pillows, his eyes closed, fear and pain on his face. Tony resists the urge to flee only by reminding himself that if he leaves now, he will never forgive himself for it.

It takes Steve a few minutes to get his breath back. Tony stands still by the door during this time, part of his mind down there in the lab, thinking of new things to try. It's all he can do. It's the _only_ thing he can do.

Steve finally looks at Tony, his eyes glittering bright with fever. "When we were in that other realm," he says. It's difficult for him to speak now, he's so out of breath. "You and Thor and I. We all fought together. We were on the same side. And it felt so good to have that back again. I missed it more than I knew."

Tony says nothing. He missed it, too, and he doesn't even remember a time when he wasn't part of the team. It's enough to know that it happened, that he spent a year being the enemy, hunting down and arresting the people who were supposed to be his friends. It doesn't matter that he doesn't remember it. _They_ remember.

"That's what I want," Steve says. "When I'm gone. The Avengers to be a team again. A family. And I want you to be a part of that, Tony."

Something cold and painful knots in Tony's chest behind the weight of the RT. He doesn't deserve to be here, an Avenger once more. Not after everything he's done. 

"So no one will know," Steve says. "What happened out there. I don't blame you, Tony, and I don't want you blaming yourself. Promise me you won't say anything to anyone."

The knowledge that Steve is spending his last few hours thinking about him and trying to make things better for him is the bitterest pain Tony has ever known. He wants to refuse the amnesty Steve is offering. He wants Steve to yell at him, to be angry with him, to order him away for good. He wants to see that hatred in Steve's eyes again, the hatred so plain to see in that famous photograph from their last, terrible battle, when Steve was within seconds of smashing his skull in with the shield.

Instead he has Steve's forgiveness. And it's a horrible thing to realize that this is his true punishment. He can cope with hatred. He's been the bad guy often enough, he knows how to deal with it. 

It's the forgiveness he can't accept.

But what other choice does he have?

He closes his eyes. "All right," he whispers.

"Good," Steve says.

"I don't exactly know what I'm supposed to do, though," Tony says, and he looks at Steve. It's self-indulgent and shameful, but it's the honest truth. He has absolutely no idea where he is supposed to go from here.

"You live," Steve says. "No matter how hard it is, you go on living. Be the good man I know you are." He smiles.

The sight of that smile is what finally breaks Tony. He stumbles toward the bed, desperate, pleading. He doesn't know what his last words were to Steve, what came before that bullet on the courthouse steps, because he doesn't remember and he never will. But he will never forget what is happening to them right now, and he has to make this right, he has to, he has to.

"I'm sorry," he weeps. "I'm so sorry. For all of it. If I could—"

But he has to stop there. Because he wouldn't. Even though he can't remember what he did in the past year, he knows that given the chance, he would do it all over again. And he can't lie to Steve. He _won't_ lie to Steve. Not now. He wants his last words to be ones of truth.

"I never wanted to hurt you," he says. "You've been there for me for so long, even when I couldn't be there for myself. And I… I…" 

The words catch in his throat and threaten to choke him. _I love you._

"It's okay," Steve says, and he's not crying, not even close. "I forgive you, Tony."

Each word is another knife in his chest. He can't do this, oh God he can't. Even if it's a lie – and part of him hopes that it is – he can't bear it. He staggers the last few steps to the bed and then he's there, hugging Steve and crying into that golden hair he never did get to kiss.

Steve holds him back, and Tony never wants to let him go. As if he can physically hold the inevitable at bay, just by putting himself between Steve and death.

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

But he can't say it. He won't. Steve ordered him to remain silent about what happened in Asgard, and for his own sake, he will do it. It's the only way the Avengers will ever take him back and let him fulfill his promise to Steve. But this particular silence he keeps for Steve's sake. No good can come of telling the truth now. His words will only hurt Steve and give him more pain.

Some things are not meant to be said out loud.

Selfishly he clings to Steve a little while longer, committing this moment to memory. The feel of Steve in his arms, the softness of his hair. The heat of his fever, the rattle of his breathing.

He can't hold on forever, though, and so eventually Tony lets go and steps back. Steve coughs and gasps for air. It's the worst spasm yet, and panic darkens his eyes as he struggles to breathe. Then at last he manages to catch his breath, and he relaxes a little.

"I have to go," Tony says. Time is so very short now. "I need to work. But I'll be back later. I promise."

Steve nods weakly, too spent for words.

He takes Steve's hand and squeezes tight. Steve returns the gesture. Tony looks down at their clasped hands and spares a few precious seconds to imagine how it would feel to do this under brighter, happier circumstances, if only things had turned out differently.

Then he lets go, and he walks away.

*******

**_Later_ **

 

In the stillness of the Tower, the sound of the single repulsor blast is very loud.


End file.
